


A Tale

by BOBLIKESMANGOS



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Angst, Hate to Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 06:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11030247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BOBLIKESMANGOS/pseuds/BOBLIKESMANGOS
Summary: A story inside the halls of the institute, a tale of two people and two vows.





	1. A Tale of Two Cites

 

it was the best of times, it was the worst of times, an epoch of war, and the time of perceived peacefulness. It was the age of false justice and the century of cruel reality. It was an age of wonder and the age of destruction. Two cities stood, across Valoran, determined their ideology would conquer all. In there wake, justice would fail the weak, and strength would fail the strong. Words will fail diplomacy just as force fails warfare. It was the time of change and yet, no change at all. 

 

On the tiny street corner near the Noxian market square, a young boy stood as his parents were murdered in the alley way. Out of site and in the light, he watched as the shaded men took their money purse, only to discover nothing inside. His emerald eyes cried as a subtle rage filled his soul. 

 

Across the land of Valoran, inside the shinning halls of gold and ivory, another young boy ran down the halls with tears in his eyes. His Nanny picked him up as he continued to weep. Topaz coloured tears streaming from his eyes, leaving a trail of disappointment behind him. He couldn’t read the letter fully but knew enough anyways. His uncle was dead; the only person that ever loved him, that didn’t treat him with cold ambivalence, was completely and utterly dead. He felt a cold icy lump form in his heart. And on that rainy December evening, after crying until twilight, he made a vow - He would never forgive the any noxian, he would kill everyone he could, and not a single one will survive his blade. 

 

Time heals most wounds, but they will forever leave scar. The Noxian brothers would eventually forget the cruel nature of their world, but they would never forget what reality has robbed from them. The younger matured sadistically, death became his only pleasure. The older grew omeniously, and death became his honour. They ascended the ranks of the Noxian command, one the glorious executioner, the patron of the people and the entertainer. The other sworn as the hand of Noxus, the youngest general ever to sit around the table of the high command. On his 25th Birthday, Darius was sworn in as Maximus. Wielding his axe, he took the honorific with pride. As he chanted the the Noxian banter, he let the the last part of the innocent boy die, as a deep ruby red filled this eyes. War was glory, bloodshed was purpose, death is honour. He too made a vow beneath his breath as Swain gave him the symbolic blood soaked cape - No a single Demacian will ever escape his axe. 

 

Despite age and time, war never changes. The war raged back and fourth across the land, from Frejord to Shurima. The two armies marched forward and back, skirmished across the borders over and over. The tide of war never turned to one side, as if stagnant like a pond. The endless battles became a maw for the unfortunate youth. Demacia’s ivory walls began to fade as the Noxian command begin to lose grasp of the city. The war of attrition was coming to an end but no sage could predict the victor. When the summoner’s came, most thought them another useless order to be squashed by the Demacian judiciary or the Noxian assassins. Yet they endured, and upon the ancestral mountains, they formed the League - a real life chess board of international disputes. To everyone’s surprise, a neutral armistice was signed, portably forced by pressure from the league’s mages, by Swain and Jarvan IV the next month. 

 

Just as the wars eventually ended in peace, so must the military way of life. The result of the armistice was simple, the dismemberment of all organized militaries across the city states of Valoran. The format of pseudo combat arranged by the League meant individual nations could only maintain elite forces. Every region sent their delegation, but it was clear to everyone there would be disputes where there always were. The Noxian and Demacian delegations were constantly at each other’s throats, yet even that tension mellowed over time. But the vows made by too long ago never faded, yet, they too must eventually heal by the passage of time. 

 

It was the age of peace, it was the age of turmoil. And so must this tale continue, as the passage of time slowly sands away the vows built on anger and regret. And so this story lives, as a tale of two people, two vows, and two cities. 


	2. A dialogue

Rarely did the Piltover delegation get anything they wanted through the institute council, but when they did, it usually meant an effort to preserve what little peace existed within the hostile league environment. With support from the Ionian delegation, they finally had enough votes to pass and institute the exchange program policy. A program to promote friendly interaction through immediacy, It mixed up the delegations and created a exchange program to promote "cultural exchange". While some pods were lucky and could actually facilitate peaceful discussion, other random placement were no so comforting - Ashe had a room next to Sejuani, Teemo was next Veigar, and of course, as fate would have it, Darius was placed next to Garen. 

 

At first the idea seemed like a dream, no one would agree to it in the first place. But when the summoners began handing out the new keys for their new dorms, the fear and anger began to set in. The two hulking giants walked next to each other through maze like halls not speaking a word. They challenged each other, as always, in small subconscious ways. They always kept pace with each other, They both tried to puff their chests out so they looked bigger. Darius swung his axe from side to side as a means of intimidation, while Garen twirled his sword dangerously close to Darius’ throat. They kept at it all the way to the end of the East hall where they were given two large rooms next to each other.

 

Darius opened the door first, and slammed it loudly, almost like a challenge before disappearing inside. Garen not to be out done, swung the door purposefully as he entered his room, as if to respond to the previous signals of aggression. They both hopped this would not last long. 

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The synchronized schedule of the institute made it even worse. Being the soldiers they were, they always went to each meal and event at the ringing of the bell. Which meant they would always see each other whenever they left their rooms to go some where else. Garen contemplated waiting five minutes after each bell as to avoid spending time with a man he wished he could punch in the stomach, but decided not to back down and wait for Darius to change instead. Darius, of course, to proud to change his habits, waited for Garen to either go earlier or later to avoid the awkward walk. And so it went on, the two stubborn men would leave at the same time, arrive at the meal hall the same time, leave around the same time, and slam the door in each other faces, with increasing volume day after day. 

 

When Draven visited, Darius just knew something would go wrong. Whenever Draven entered his life, he always broke the careful equilibrium he has established. In his regiment or in his home, Draven always messed something up for him, but he should have known the purpose of his visits. Draven, as the trickster he was, never told Darius what he was going to attempt, and as usual, framed it on him to get him in trouble. He snuck into Garen’s room while both men left for a game to settle the usage of the Swamp lands for magical research, and covered the entire place in cow dung. Though elementary, Draven always appreciated the a touch of simplicity. While the magical clean up crew could get it cleaned out in less than a minute, a message was all he needed. And a carefully forged “Fuck You” notes signed by a forged signature of Darius was the final cheery on his diabolical cheesecake. 

 

When Darius returned, he was greeted by a fully armoured charging tank. As garen rammed into him in the hallway, he felt his ribcage collapse under his armour. Though neither of them were armed, Garen knew enough martial arts to keep Darius pinned to the ground. 

 

“Why the fuck did you do that” Garen bellowed. “I knew you Noxians had no honour to speak of, but why would you do such a thing.” He continued the pin even as Darius struggled to get free. “I thought we had a silent understanding.”

 

“What are you talking about.” Darius said back, careful to contain his emotions. Aggression outside of training and combat was strictly forbidden inside the institute. What could he have done to make the normally calm captain so angry. That comment, apparently made Garen even angrier as he felt a gauntlet strike his left cheek, definitely leaving it cut and bruised.

 

“You honourless garbage” Garen screamed. “You are truly and wholly scum”. Between Garen's constant barrage against his face and the constant bitchy insults. Darius started to lose his sympathy for the situation. The surge of aggression he has held up since they first walked down the hallway came flooding back in spatular a fashion as he slammed his fist into Garen’s nose, knocking the Captain off, and leaving him sliding back holding his face across the marble floor. Feeling his face and neck, Darius realized the blood flowing from under his cheek and the cuts all around the face. Like a shark, the blood ignited a primal excitement in him. 

 

“If you want a fight?” Darius Challenged, “then let’s do this properly.” He said as he charged at the recovering general, knocking both of them to the ground. The spilled blood smeared across the marble floors of the institute. Garen recovered just in time and kicked Darius off his back. A rage boiling inside him. Not only does Darius break into his dorm, ruin his room, but now, he is fighting Garen on the basis that Garen started something when he felt completely justified to do so. 

 

“I don’t know what this is about” Darius continued, as he wiped off the blood from his lips. “But I have waited for this for sometime now.” They both stood up and either end, and matched each others pace as they charged at one another in the centre of the room. The clang of their armour sent vibrations throughout the halls. They threw punch after punch, as the boiled up aggression was slowly used up. Finally, Darius knocked Garen on the side of his face as he fell backwards. Darius took the opportunity to climb on top of the giant and rested his weight on top to pin down Garen’s arms. 

 

“Are you going to explain now?” Darius panted as he spit out the blood collecting in his mouth.

 

“What is their to explain” Garen replied angrily. “Since we have stopped the punching I’m guessing you want a truce, if that’s that case, I suggest you get off me before I rip your face off.” Garen replied, resentment obvious in every word he spoke.

 

“Not until you explain what I supposedly did,”

 

“What is their to explain you prick.”

 

“Draven came over today, he probably framed me, whatever it is.” Darius offered his best guess as to the situation 

 

“Because Draven would cover my room in poop. Whatever, its done now, I might as well believe you. ” Garen replied sarcastically, relaxing his body after Darius rolled off him. “Did you enjoy that?” He coughed in the middle of his sentence. “I mean fighting me.”

 

“i enjoyed it as much as you did.” Darius replied with a snarky comment that he knew would irritate Garen. “Honestly, I thought I would, but fighting you is always a bother, you are probably the only best soldier Demacia ever trained.”

 

“Should I take that as a complement.” Garen said slowly standing up. Wiping the blood from his forehead and shaking it out onto the ground.  “Its late, let’s clean this up.” 

 

“What about your room.” Darius wondered, amazed that he felt sorry for the Captain at all.

 

“You sound a lot nicer when you aren’t screaming, did you know that.?” It was Garen’s turn for snarky comments. “I’ll go sleep in Lux’s room after we clean the blood up, no one can know this happened.”

 

“Come to mine, I have another bed.” Darius offered, feeling sorry that Garen did nothing wrong, even though, now after all this, he has to go sleep on the floor in the women’s quarters.”

 

“I don’t need sympathy, especially not from a wretched Noxian” Garen said as he avoided Darius’ gaze, even though they both know its the best solution, if they didn’t want to get discovered. Their rooms were off the main budding of the institute, so no one could hear them. As long as they kept this between themselves, they shouldn’t be punished for it. 

 

“I’m not giving you an option.” Darius said firmly, even thought he was clearly in pain. He strong armed Garen by grabbing his wrist. “Or would you rather have another round of whatever that was, to get it out of your system. We both know I would win, I’m better at hand to hand combat” 

 

“In your condition, I doubt it.” Garen prayed Darius’s arm off with a shake but turned towards his room. “I’ll take your word on it, even though I could have bled you out if we had another bout.” Darius roughly checked Garen’s shoulder as he walked past him to insert the key to his room. He walked in through the door, but left the door open. 

 

“Stay 5 meters away from my desk, no peeking at my mail, and always keep the curtains closed. Otherwise, enjoy my humble abode - I hope you never return.” Darius said as he slipped off his armour and crashed on a bed full of messy sheets. Garen closed the door behind him, and entered what seemed like a chaotic storm of papers, armour, weapons, and dirty laundry. The Noxian general slept quietly, curled up in the a messy bed, across from a bed thats never been disturbed, which he assumed would be his. Garen never expected to see Darius sleep in a curled position. Shirtless. Vulnerable. Then again, the 200 pounds of muscles probably deterred any assassins who meant harm. Streaks and scars cascaded across his body, from neck to torso. Slowly drying blood red scars from todays ordeal would probably add to his collection.

 

Garen took off his armour and slowly cleaned it with the water from the water bucket in the room. He slowly rubbed off the mixed blood of him and his rival off from his plates. He stared at him self in the mirror. How dumb was he? To think he could go to Lux’s room in a condition like this with out being discovered. His forehead had mostly pealed off, his nose bled two trails down his face, his eye were back and his nose was bent out of shape. Darius had really done him a huge favour for letting him stay, Then again, he probably did it to cover his own mistake, if Garen got them both punished for breaking the contract. 

 

He took Darius’s chainmail and bloodied shirt and ran it through the same water, he then took his own shirt off soaked it in water and cleaned up the marble floor outside the room. Sliding into the bed beside Darius he finally let out a sigh of relief. 

 

“Thanks.” Garen heard a faint whisper. 

 

“What did you say?”

 

“Thanks.” Darius said, reluctantly but a bit a louder this time. 

 

“I should be the one saying that.” Garen replied. 

 

“but I actually mean it.” Darius said softly, more earnestly this time. “Good night.”

 

“Good night.” Garen replied as a million thoughts filtering through his head. In the room of his rival, after one of the most brutal fights in his life. Thanking the hand of Noxus for his hospitality. He finally understood why his Uncle always made multiple battle plans. “Always believe in the impossible, because, most of the time, they are all too possible.” 


End file.
